Eagles at War

IX

When Arminius heard about the Usipetes’ raiding party, he was furious. Varus could respond in but one manner. Retaliation. Why did Varus have to pick him to be part of it? The Usipetes were his allies, secret or no. If their chieftains heard that their warriors had been slain by Cheruscans and, worse still, that he had been involved, any chance of their cooperation would vanish forever.

If Arminius could have, he would have seen that the raiding party was wiped out. Thanks to Varus’ desire for prisoners, though, the raiders’ fate had been taken out of his hands. Varus’ legionaries would follow their orders. The best Arminius could do was to order his men to slay as many of the raiders as they could, and hope that the ones who were captured and interrogated didn’t give anything away. Everything felt risky and uncertain, but he had to remain confident that the Usipetes’ chieftains would not find out about his involvement.

At least the situation wasn’t all bad. Varus’ heavy-handed response would fan the flames of resentment towards Rome among other tribes. Those who might have wavered before would now be eager to throw in their lot when he called on them to do so.

The Usipetes would remain unaware, Arminius told himself. His ambitious alliance would come together. His plan would bear fruit.

A day had passed, and Arminius was riding south on the road that led towards Asciburgium. He had been astride his mount long enough for his arse to start aching. Most of his men were ranging ahead of the patrol, but he was at its front, with two turmae; Tullus and the legionaries were marching behind. Arminius had been counting the stone markers at the side of the paved road since they’d left Vetera, but his bad mood meant he’d forgotten how far they had come. The dull pain in his backside, he decided, meant it had to be about ten miles. The countryside was almost flat, as it was throughout the area. The river flowed along to his left, a constant feature, and there were open fields and occasional farmhouses to his right. From this point on, his scouts would be of vital importance, because no one knew where the Usipetes were.

Once they were found, victory was certain. The Roman force – two cohorts and half of Arminius’ cavalry unit – would have no difficulty in dealing with the tribal war band. Ensuring that the Usipetes remained ignorant of their allies’ participation in the Roman response to their raid was another matter altogether.

Not long after, Tullus rode forward from his position. Arminius had been impressed by Tullus’ soldiers, who seemed well drilled, disciplined and responsive to their officers. This was a solid centurion, who like as not led by example. His men would follow him anywhere. In short, he was someone worth befriending – and also keeping a close eye on. Tullus had not understood Maelo’s muttered comment during the early stages of the boar hunt, but he hadn’t missed the look Arminius and Maelo had shared after the comment about the smell of blood. At some level, Tullus was suspicious of him, thought Arminius, pulling a hearty smile.

‘Seen anything?’ Tullus asked in a friendly enough tone.

‘Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time before my men find them. I suggested to the senior tribune that they scour the countryside ahead of us, in individual turmae, to cover more ground.’ Arminius was pleased to see Tullus nodding in approval. ‘They have orders to withdraw, unseen, at the first sighting of the Usipetes.’

‘Where’s the tribune?’

‘He insisted on going with my men.’ It was clear that Tullus didn’t much care for Tubero. After what had happened on the patrol to Aliso, Arminius wasn’t surprised. He filed the detail away for future use.

They rode on for a time, and then Tullus asked, ‘Did the Usipetes’ chieftains sanction this raid, d’you think?’

‘If they did, they’re damn fools,’ said Arminius with feeling. ‘Such acts will always be answered, in force.’

‘Their entire people will suffer because of this.’

‘They will.’ But if my alliance remains unaffected, I don’t care, thought Arminius harshly.

During the silence that fell after, Arminius caught Tullus rubbing at a puckered scar on the fleshy part of his left calf.

‘That an old injury?’

‘Aye. Nothing’s ever the same once it’s been thrust through by a blade. If I have regular massages, and remember to stretch it every morning, it doesn’t cause me too much trouble. I can’t march like I used to, worse luck. After a few miles, it begins to feel as if someone’s tightening a vice inside the muscle.’

‘Scar tissue,’ pronounced Arminius.

‘That’s what the surgeon said. There’s nothing to be done with it, other than keeping it as supple as possible.’ Tullus threw him a glance. ‘You must have had an injury or two.’

Arminius rapped his ornate helmet. ‘I have a nice scar on the top of my head, courtesy of a warrior with a falx in Illyricum. Lucky for me, his blade was poor quality, and broke as it smashed my helm.’

‘They are fearsome weapons. I’ve seen soldiers’ brains dribbling from their cracked skulls after a strike from one. Your gods must have been smiling on you that day.’

‘Donar was,’ replied Arminius, thumbing his hammer amulet. ‘I was careful afterwards to buy the most expensive helmet that I could afford. Under the braided hair and silverwork, this thing is half a finger of bronze thick.’

‘It must be heavy.’

‘At the end of a long day, my neck and shoulders know about it,’ Arminius admitted. ‘But you get used to it.’

‘There’s no point complaining, because everyone’s in the same shitty boat.’

They both chuckled, and Arminius thought: He’s starting to like me. Good.

Several hours later, Tubero returned at the head of one of Arminius’ turmae. He was in buoyant mood, because they had been first to sight the Usipetes, in a settlement some four miles away. ‘I was quick to pull the men back,’ he said, ‘although I wanted to ride in there and let the savages have it.’

‘It was wise not to do so, tribune,’ said Arminius.

‘We could still attack them today,’ cried Tubero, his face alight.

If we do that, thought Arminius, eyeing the sinking sun, some of them are bound to get away in the poor light. And if they’ve noticed that we Cherusci are involved … ‘Your eagerness is infectious, tribune.’

Tubero grinned. ‘You want to take them too!’

‘I do, of course.’ Arminius hesitated, and then added, ‘I wonder if your plan might work better tomorrow, tribune, at dawn.’

Tubero frowned. ‘How so?’

‘Some of the Usipetes might still have their wits about them today. Give them a night of drinking whatever beer they find, however, and hit them first thing in the morning, and they won’t know what has happened until it’s too late. The whole thing will be done inside an hour.’

Tubero rubbed a finger across his lips, thinking. ‘What about the villagers?’

‘Most of them will already be dead, so the timing of our intervention won’t make that much difference. Leaving the assault until tomorrow will also reduce the possibility of casualties. Imagine how pleased Varus would be not just that you succeeded in your mission, but that you lost only a handful of men.’

Tubero nodded.

‘Another thing struck me, tribune. The Usipetes must have crossed the river by boat. Taking those craft would remove any chance of the raiding party escaping. If you were to send a century or two along the bank, say …’

‘I could order them fired at dawn,’ cried Tubero. ‘When our trumpets sound the attack.’

‘An excellent plan, tribune,’ declared Arminius.

Tubero smiled, as if the entire idea had been his all along.

Arminius had ridden his horse a short distance off the road, into the middle of a field of young barley. As ever, Maelo was by his right side. Around them in a loose semicircle were all of his mounted warriors. The men’s faces were fierce, eager, expectant.

The night-time cool was with them yet, but the sky was cloudless again, auguring the high temperatures of the previous few days. They had ridden from the marching camp with great care, passing the settlement by leading their horses, to reach their position in good time. It wouldn’t be long before the trumpeters with Tubero sounded, however. The sun was peeking over the tops of the hazel and crab-apple trees that dotted the riverbank to their right.

Arminius was about to give his men their final orders. And more.

He chewed his lip. This moment had come sooner than he had wished. Even these, the men of his own tribe, might give the game away after he spoke to them – not here, but later. All his work, all his plans, everything he had dreamed of since he was a boy, could be undone by a subsequent unguarded remark to a Roman in Vetera.

Maelo sensed his unease. He leaned forward, rubbing his horse’s neck. ‘Arminius, they’re loyal to you, heart and soul,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You don’t have to tell them everything, just enough so that they understand why the raiders have to die. They won’t flinch from the job. It’s not as if there’s any love lost between we Cherusci and the Usipetes.’

‘True.’ Arminius straightened his back, throwing back his shoulders. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

Silence fell.

‘We Cherusci may serve Rome, but in our hearts, we’re free men. Isn’t that right?’

‘Aye!’ came a responsive roar.

Arminius tapped his silvered helmet. ‘Despite all the trappings, I have never liked serving Rome. Never liked having to do what its emperor said, most of all when it had anything to do with our own tribe, or others. I don’t want to pay this new tax either. What am I – a faceless labourer in a workshop?’

More voices of agreement.

‘There comes a time in a man’s life when servitude can no longer be borne.’

They watched him, naked curiosity – and wariness – filling their faces. ‘Not every hunting dog loves its master, Arminius, but it still does his bidding,’ called one warrior. ‘The dog that bites its master can expect to have a knife drawn across its neck.’

‘Especially if that hunting dog sleeps by its master’s side,’ added another.

‘You speak true,’ said Arminius. ‘Auxiliaries – like us – who rebel against Rome are punished in the most severe ways. But if the Romans were to suffer a catastrophic defeat, if they were to lose thousands of soldiers at one stroke, I say that you will die of old age rather than at their hands, on a cross or in an arena. Why? Because afterwards, those Roman whoresons would be too scared to cross the damn river!’

His men liked that, but they still looked uneasy.

‘You’re talking about rebellion, Arminius,’ said the warrior who’d mentioned the hunting dog.

‘I am, plain and simple.’ He let them suck on the marrow of that, and was pleased to see increasing numbers of men nodding. He raised his voice again. ‘I have had enough of the Roman yoke around my neck. I say I am free, yet I have to do the Romans’ bidding, have to pay their damn tax. I am a leader of the Cherusci, but I serve alongside one of their legions, fighting peoples with whom I have no quarrel. It is time to change these things. Time to become my own master again. Time to stand up and fight.’ His eyes tracked over his men, slowly. ‘Are you with me?’

‘I am,’ said Maelo, punching a fist in the air.

‘And I!’ Arminius was delighted to hear the warrior who’d spoken about hunting dogs and their masters. The men around him voiced their accord. It took a few moments, but then, like the rocks that follow the first stone of a landslide, the rest of his warriors joined in.

Arminius raised his hands. ‘I am thankful that we are as one on this, but the Usipetes must not hear us, my brothers.’

‘Why in Donar’s name not? We should wake them so that we can all fight the Romans!’ declared one man.

A good number of voices called out in agreement, but they quieted as Arminius began to speak again.

‘It would give me great pleasure to act so, but the place to fall upon the Romans is not here. It’s not now. We are too few, and I wish to wipe out not two cohorts, but three legions! The attack today must go ahead. If possible, every Usipetes warrior must be slain.’ He continued as his men’s faces filled with dismay. ‘The truth of it is that the Usipetes’ chieftains have already agreed to join our cause. If they find out that we have murdered some of their kin, Roman orders or no, they will tell me to shove it up my arse. That’s if I’m lucky!’ He was pleased that some warriors laughed. ‘It’s not just about the Usipetes either. We need several tribes to join us. If the Usipetes pull out, my chances of winning anyone else over will sink into the marsh, never to be seen again.’

Silence.

‘I say this with a heavy heart, but we have to follow Varus’ orders today. We must go even further in fact, to ensure that word of our involvement never crosses the river. If possible, every last one of the raiding party must be slain.’ Arminius sat stiff-backed on his horse, his stomach twisting in knots. Ten heartbeats passed. A dozen more skipped by, and still no one spoke. Arminius held his peace, keeping his expression stern.

‘Swear that if we act as you ask, you will deliver thousands of the whoresons to us,’ demanded the ‘hunting dog’ warrior. ‘Swear that we will wash away the stain of our actions with Roman blood.’

The weight of hundreds of men’s stares bore down on Arminius. Donar, help me, he asked. The wrong word, or a slip of the tongue, and he would lose them.

‘With Donar as my witness, I, Arminius of the Cherusci, make a solemn oath. With you by my side, I will teach the Romans a lesson that they will never forget. Their blood will flow in rivers; their cries of anguish will rend the heavens. Thousands of them will die, among them Varus himself. We will take their eagle standards as our own, and afterwards sacrifice their senior officers to the thunder god. In Rome, the emperor will tremble at the news of what we have done. Never again will his legions march through our lands! Never again will they trample our people!’

‘I want to see that day,’ declared Maelo, loyal as ever. ‘I will follow you.’

‘So will I, by all the gods,’ said the ‘hunting dog’ warrior.

And like that, as if a god had passed his hand over them, his men’s mood changed from wary and unsure to fierce and blood-hungry. ‘I will do as you say, Arminius!’ ‘And I!’ ‘I’m with you!’

A moment later, the sound of trumpets rang out from the north.

Arminius smiled. He had won them over in the nick of time.